


Lost and Found

by crochetaway



Series: Drabbles and OneShots [51]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Muggle AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 23:38:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16464491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crochetaway/pseuds/crochetaway
Summary: Hermione feels loss and lost. She and Harry are both plagued by flashbacks to a life they never lived. When she meets Draco he seems to be the answer to every question she never knew she needed to ask.





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N: Thanks to my alpha, brownlark42 for giving me this idea. And many thanks to my beta, RachaelLA26, who had to go through this twice because of computer issues. She's truly a saint!**
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> **This was written for Dramione Fanfiction Writer's Halloween Trope Fest. I was given a Muggle AU trope and I realized when I started writing this, that I don’t actually like Muggle AU’s all that much. But I do love to challenge myself, so this strange little piece below is a Muggle AU, and I really kind of love it. I don’t explain much, so it’s up to you to decide what happened. Are they in an alternate timeline? Parallel Universe? Obliviated? A dream? I’m not sure. You decide.**

* * *

Hermione woke up groggy. The dream she’d just had faded away to bits the more she tried to grasp at it. Lately, she was having them more and more. A glance at her cell phone told her why. It was nearly Halloween. The strange dreams she suffered were always worst at Halloween and the beginning of May. She had no idea why.

Stumbling down to the kitchen, Hermione started a pot of coffee for her and her flatmate Harry. They used to live with Ron, their other best friend, but Ron was off playing for the National League: the Abbey Rangers—a middling team situated to the far west side of London. Since he had to be up so early for practices, he’d moved out of the flat shared by the three of them and into one near the stadium. Hermione and Harry barely saw him these days.

She’d just poured herself a cup of coffee when Harry tripped down the stairs and into the kitchen. He looked like he barely slept and Hermione passed him her mug of coffee, pouring a new one for herself.

“You look like shit,” she commented, taking a sip of her coffee.

“I feel like shit. I had another one. A bad one,” Harry said, adding copious amounts of sugar to his coffee.

“Which one?” Hermione asked. Harry’s dreams or flashbacks as Hermione liked to call them, always seemed worse than hers somehow.

“The one I always get at Halloween. The screams of the mother I’ve never met. The bright, sickeningly green light. I see a nursery, so I think I’m a baby?” Harry shook his head as he tried to muddle through the recollection. “But I know it isn’t real. My parents died in a car crash. I wasn’t even in the car with them.”

“Still doesn’t explain your scar,” Hermione pointed out. If Harry hadn’t been in the car crash with his parents, then how did he get the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead?

Harry rubbed his forehead. “I know. And my scar often hurts when having a flashback. I just wish I knew what they meant.”

“Me too,” Hermione said quietly. “Me too.” 

* * *

Later that morning, Hermione was pulling stock in the bookstore she worked in when a flashback hit her.

_She was a child, huddling in the corner of a bathroom as some large monster was smashing cubicles with his club. She screamed and suddenly Harry and Ron were there, trying to distract the monster. More cubicles fell apart, some of the sinks too, the bathroom started to flood with water and Hermione felt frozen in fear. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe as the monster barreled toward her. She screamed…_

And found herself in the back room of the bookstore once more. Hermione slid down the bookshelf she had been stocking and hugged her knees to her chest as her skin prickled with goose pimples. She was shaking with fear and tried to work on breathing at a steady rate. She hated these flashbacks. She didn’t know if they were memories or peeks into an alternate universe, or something else completely. But they were always in the past. She was so young, Harry and Ron were so young, in all of them. They never showed her the future, at least she didn’t think so. And, they had a patina of the past about them. She couldn’t explain it, except that they all seemed to have happened a long time ago.

Almost half an hour went by before Hermione felt like herself again. She took a deep breath before standing and returning to the front of the store. She would have to finish pulling stock later. Luckily, her boss was sympathetic to what Hermione had told her was anxiety and allowed Hermione to work late if she had an episode during the workday.

As Hermione rang a customer up at the till she thought about whether being a shop assistant in a bookstore was really what she wanted to do with her life. She used to think she wanted to do something more than this, but for the life of her, she could not remember what.

The door to the bookstore opened with a jingle of the bell above it. Hermione glanced up to see a blond man she didn’t recognize, closing the door behind him softly. He looked up swiftly as if he felt her eyes on him and the moment his grey eyes met hers, she could hear ‘ _filthy little mudblood_ ’ spat at her over and over again. Shaking her head and moving her eyes elsewhere, Hermione finished up with her current customer. Sometimes her flashbacks were like that, just a phrase, or a feeling, or a smell that wouldn’t leave her alone. Sometimes it was a song or a picture in her head she couldn’t shake.

She didn’t recognize the man, but something about him called to her, despite the slur that was rattling around in her head.

Her coworker took over at the till and Hermione returned to the storeroom to finish pulling stock from earlier. There had been a popular book released recently and their stock was getting low. Hermione hefted a few boxes onto a dolly and wheeled them out through the store.

The blond man was browsing at the newly released table as Hermione began stocking. His hair was a shocking, almost white blond and his grey eyes were unfathomable pools. Sharp cheekbones along with a strong jaw completed the visage. Hermione was instantly attracted to him and took a deep breath to steady herself.

“Hello,” his voice was deep, richly aristocratic, but friendly enough. He gave her a small smile.

“Hi,” she said with a tight smile. “Can I help you find anything?”

“No, just browsing. Although have you read this?” He held up the book she was stocking.

Hermione shook her head. “I’m not really into science fiction. Although it’s selling well, it’s probably decent if that’s what you like.”

He nodded and moved around to the other side of the table where books that weren’t quite as new were piled. As Hermione stacked the books, the man kept looking at her as though he thought he knew her, but couldn’t place her. Hermione had a similar feeling. She _knew_ she didn’t know him, and yet, somehow, he seemed so familiar.

“This is awkward, but would you like to grab a drink sometime?” the man asked out of the blue.

Hermione was used to customers attempting to pick her up. Normally, she would turn them down with a polite refusal, indicating she had a boyfriend. But, there was just something about this man, she felt like she _needed_ to get to know him better.

“I don’t go out with strangers,” Hermione said. Then she stuck out her hand. “Hermione Granger.”

“Draco Malfoy.” The blond man shook her hand, and his hand felt warm around hers. Her skin tingled, almost as if in recognition, but still, she knew she didn’t know him.

“There’s a party tonight. Halloween, you know? Want to meet me there?” Hermione asked. She felt safer inviting him someplace where all her friends would be.

“Yes, alright,” Draco agreed. Hermione gave him the address and directions and Draco took his purchases to the counter. “See you tonight,” he said as he gave a little wave and walked out of the bookstore. 

* * *

The moment he walked into the bookstore, the phrase ‘ _foul, loathsome, evil, little cockroach_ ’ reverberated around his head. His nose hurt, as if someone had just punched him and he touched it lightly, it didn’t feel swollen under his fingertips, although the pain didn’t go away. Sometimes he had these _episodes_ , like intense deja vu that he just couldn’t explain.

He felt eyes on him and turned quickly to find a woman staring at him. She had huge, bushy brown hair that Draco itched to dig his fingers in. Her pert mouth was infinitely kissable and Draco immediately felt attracted to her. He didn’t know her, had never seen her before in his life, and yet seeing her now, it felt as though a missing piece, something he’d been missing for as long as he could remember, had finally slipped into place. She answered questions he didn’t even know to ask and he hadn’t spoken a word to her.

The impulse to ask her out was so strong, that it was almost the first words out of Draco’s mouth. Luckily, his aristocratic upbringing at least stalled him long enough to say hello first. He shook his head, he knew he had an aristocratic upbringing, but searching for the Malfoy family name had led almost nowhere. Another mystery in a lifetime of them. One he wasn’t sure he’d ever solve.

The moment she said her name, he rolled it around in his head. It felt like coming home. It was the most exhilarating feeling in the world; the way this woman looked at him. He couldn’t wait to see her that night. He’d walked out of that bookshop with a spring in his step. One he hadn’t had in a long time, if ever. 

* * *

The house was a small cottage on the outskirts of London. The wind blew the last of the leaves from the trees, and they skittered down the street as Draco approached the cottage. He could hear Jane’s Addiction blasting from somewhere inside the house. He knocked on the door, half-thinking nobody would hear him and wondering if he was brave enough to open the door on his own when a small blonde woman opened it. She had bulbous blue eyes and cocked her head to the side, looking at Draco quizzically. He heard the echoing clank of a dungeon door in his head. Another _episode_. Two in one day was unusual and as the clang rippled through his head again, he wondered how he knew that it was a dungeon door slamming closed that he heard. He was sure he’d never even _seen_ a dungeon in his life, let alone heard the slam of such a door.

“Er, hi,” Draco said. “Hermione invited me…”

The woman brightened. “Hi! I’m Luna, come in! Hermione’s just arrived!” Luna seemed to exude a joy and happiness that Draco had never in his life achieved. The ricochet of the dungeon door faded from his mind as he entered a crowded sitting room, the music was much louder here and Draco spotted Hermione across the room. She was standing next to a black-haired man who had startling green eyes. When he met the gaze of the other man, ‘ _Malfoy_ ’ rang in his head, hissed as if it were a curse. Three in one day was positively unheard of for him. He recoiled as ‘ _Malfoy_ ’ sounded again in his ears, this time spat at him. The black-haired man’s eyes widened and Draco wondered if he knew what had just happened.

He shook his head and finished crossing the room. The black-haired man touched Hermione’s shoulder and said something to her as Draco walked up.

“Hello,” Draco said, nodding at Hermione.

“Hi,” Hermione smiled at him. “Draco, this is my friend Harry Potter. Harry, this is Draco.”

“Do you have them too?” Harry asked, looking at Draco quizzically.

“Have what?” Draco asked hesitantly. He held his breath as if whatever Harry was going to say next was going to change his life. Or solve the mystery of the _episodes_.

“Flashbacks,” Hermione said. ‘ _Foul, loathsome, evil, little cockroach_ ’ resounded through his head again.

“I call them episodes,” Draco admitted. 

* * *

Hermione was tired but happy. Inviting Draco to Luna’s party had absolutely been the right call. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but Draco made her feel _alive_. As if she’d been asleep all these years, and finally he came along and she woke up. Her heart beat faster when he was near. There was a tension in the air, an excited energy that had her bouncing on her toes.

The night was winding down, the music had slowed from the rock and pop beats earlier into some slow, 80’s love songs. They’re cheesy, but a favorite of Luna’s. Hermione and Draco were swaying slowly in the middle of Luna’s sitting room with a handful of other couples. Her head was resting on Draco’s chest and she could hear his heart beat strongly inside. It was a steady rhythm that made Hermione’s breath quicken.

Hermione pulled back and gazed up at him. He smiled at her slowly. Impulsively, Hermione leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss against his mouth. Draco stiffened for a moment before returning the kiss and then deepening it. He slipped his tongue inside her mouth and Hermione was sure that her heart skipped a beat. They both pulled away at the same time and a sense of giddiness flooded Hermione. She giggled slightly, and when Draco joined in, they both broke into guffaws. It felt like joy. Something that had been missing from her life for what like forever.

Not long after that, Hermione, Draco, and Harry took their leave. Hermione invited Draco back to the flat she shared with Harry.

As they said their goodbyes to Luna, she looked at Hermione and Draco’s clasped hands and said the oddest thing. “It’s about time.”

Hermione looked at Luna funny. They haven’t ever discussed it, but Hermione was always quite sure that Luna had the flashbacks too.

The moment they were back at the flat, Harry took his leave and retired to his room. Hermione pulled Draco along the long hallway to her room, at the end. Ron’s empty room sat between Hermione and Harry’s rooms.

The kiss shared at Luna’s party, was sweet and innocent, with a promise of things to come buried in it. The kiss they shared once the door to Hermione’s bedroom was shut was everything that the earlier kiss was not. Passionate and heated, and it had Hermione stripping out of her clothes and helping Draco with his.

“Are you sure?” Draco asked at one point, as Hermione tugged down his trousers.

“Merlin, yes,” Hermione swore. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my _life_.”

Draco pulled her to standing and placed a hand on either side of her face, staring into her eyes intently. “Me neither,” he whispered before pressing a kiss to her lips once more.

They fell into her bed, ravishing each other. And yet, for all the passion, there was tenderness, sweetness. And for all that Hermione had just met Draco, it seemed as though they were making love. As though they had known each other for years, for most of their lives, and everything leading up to this moment had been in preparation for it. It was the best night of Hermione’s life. 

* * *

Hermione half-expected to see Draco gone in the morning, but he wasn’t. He was curled around her, holding her as though she were the life vest while he was adrift in a huge ocean. It was endearing, and anchoring, and exactly what Hermione felt like she needed. How was this possible? Is this what love at first sight was like? She didn’t know, but she did know she needed the loo.

Harry was in the kitchen when Hermione returned from the bathroom. Hermione nodded to him and poured herself a mug of coffee.

“He still here?” Harry asked.

Hermione nodded. “I think he’s going to be around for a while.”

It was Harry’s turn to nod. Hermione stared off into the distance as a not-quite-flashback came over her. It was less flashback and more like a feeling.

“What is it, Hermione?” Harry asked. “What’s wrong.”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure anything is wrong. I just feel funny… like something is missing, but…” Hermione trailed off.

“What?”

“Loss. I feel lost all of the time. But Draco? He makes me feel found.”


End file.
